


Never Have I Ever

by shiphitsthefan



Series: Times Tables [1]
Category: Charlie Countryman (2013), Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Extended Universe - Fandom, The Big C (TV)
Genre: (Hannigram In Last Chapter), Alpha Lee (The Big C), Alpha Nigel (Charlie Countryman), Alpha Will, Alpha/Alpha, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Anal Fingering, BearDogs, Blow Jobs, Butt Plugs, Casual Sex, Dirty Talk, Episode: s02e13 Mizumono, Fix-It, Hannibal Extended Universe, Inspired by Art, Knotting, Love Confessions, M/M, Omega Hannibal, Roleplay, Spanking, Trans Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-27
Updated: 2017-03-05
Packaged: 2018-09-27 08:46:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9989363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shiphitsthefan/pseuds/shiphitsthefan
Summary: After finishing an entire day's worth of the rehabilitation required for violent alphas, Nigel hits the bar in hopes of finding a nice omega to take home with him to his cousin Hannibal's safe house. Lee, another alpha, convinces Nigel to sleep with him, instead. Nigel's never fucked an alpha before, and Lee is certainly easy on the eyes.Turns out there's more to this encounter than just a simple fuck, and Nigel's about to find himself in the right kind of trouble for a change.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [postmortemdesign](https://archiveofourown.org/users/postmortemdesign/gifts).



> I've been stressed to the max and needed to write something super smutty. When [postmortemdesign posted this fabulous Lee/Nigel artwork on tumblr and twitter](http://postmortemdesign.tumblr.com/post/157526709362/lee-reached-the-point-of-being-dizzy-by-the-wine), I knew I had to write a fic to go with it, because BearDogs is my happy place. Since I'm a recent convert to A/B/O, have some alpha/alpha filth with a twist. And some feelings. And also some character meta courtesy of RDC3. <3
> 
> Betaed and cheered on by [Llewcie](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Llewcie/pseuds/Llewcie/works) and [TigerPrawn](http://archiveofourown.org/users/TigerPrawn/pseuds/TigerPrawn/works). All of my love to my lovelies!
> 
> This work is complete and will post every other day. :D

Back in Bucharest, after having a day like today, Nigel would find someone to beat up on. Depending on the severity of the piss-poor day, maybe even kill. If the day had been especially fucking bad, he’d make someone else do it so he could watch, after which Nigel would kill _them._

Minneapolis is more than miles away from Bucharest, though; for Nigel, it’s an entire lifetime away. But that’s what happens to rehabilitated alphas now--brain castration, Nigel had called it, the implantation of a little hormone chip that made him nauseous every time he wanted to make someone else dead. After that, Bucharest had stopped being fun.

Nigel takes another swig from his Surly as his stomach halfheartedly flops, cursing Charlie all the while. He hadn’t been able to bring himself to name his chip Gabi. It was all that scrawny American cunt’s fault, anyway.

His therapist always tells Nigel that he should be grateful, that rehabilitation is a fresh slate. Most rehabbed alphas don’t have the head start that Nigel had, either, don’t have an offshore account full of mostly illegal money or a third cousin already established elsewhere. Not that Nigel and Hannibal have any intention of actually meeting again any time soon; he’d signed Nigel’s relocation paperwork and sent him to live at one of his safe houses with the understanding that his cousin might show up injured or with company at any time.

Nigel has no idea what Hannibal sees in his frankly unstable partner, but he doesn’t care enough to ask.

Life in Minneapolis is beyond boring for a Nigel that’s trying to stay out of trouble and off the radar. He goes to his required weekly therapy; he shows up once a month to the group session where he and the other poor bastards in the area with a Charlie in their head sit and grumble at each other for an hour. Nigel gets laid regularly, and drinks more than he probably should, and has developed too much of a taste for Walleye sandwiches. Other than that, all Nigel really does is read from Hannibal’s extensive collection of dryly-written books and make friends with the bartenders at all the local watering holes.

He has a new lease on life, and that life fucking sucks.

There’s a baseball game on the TV over the bar, but Nigel doesn’t pay more than cursory attention to it. Maybe if he intended to stick around for more than a couple more longnecks, he’d at least try to keep up with the score. All Nigel wants tonight is a decent buzz and a sweet piece of omega to take him back to their place. Considering his shit day of back-to-back therapy, however, Nigel would honestly settle for fucking in the goddamn alley as long as he could get his knot wet.

Three Surlys in, Nigel remembers that it’s Tuesday, which means every bar downtown is having Omegas’ Night, which means Nigel is down to betas, which means Nigel isn’t getting laid. He briefly considers breaking a chair, then gets pissed off when he immediately feels queasy. Sighing, Nigel holds up his empty bottle, then waits for a fresh.

“You look like you’ve had a rough day.”

Nigel hears the man climbing up on the stool next to him, but a quick sniff tells him that he’s not an omega. No scent, at all; must be a beta, and they rarely want to be fucked and knotted. He just shrugs and pretends to be watching the game. His cousin is probably throwing a hissy fit all the way from Baltimore.

“What’s the score?”

 _Goddammit._ “No fucking idea,” Nigel admits, nodding his thanks to the bartender. The man beside him laughs, then asks for a glass of water. Nigel’s interest in speaking him dwindles into a negative percentage.

“I’ve never been into sports, either,” and Nigel halfheartedly grunts in agreement. “Athletes have often been into me, though.”

Nigel downs half of his beer in one go.

“What, nothing?” He watches the man run his finger around the rim of his newly-acquired glass. “I thought that was pretty clever, all off-the-cuff like that.” When Nigel says nothing, he takes it as an invitation to keep talking. “Usually, I have to think about it, or let it sneak upon me. Here I am practicing mindfulness and suddenly, bam! A great joke pops into my head, and I have to run down to the clinic and share it.”

Nigel grumbles, “You do seem like the oversharing type.”

“It happened to me yesterday, actually,” the man continues, much to Nigel’s dismay. “There I am in the middle of sun salutations and the universe whispered to me, ‘Lee’--” He pauses, then holds out his hand. “My name is Lee, by the way.”

“Fabulous.”

“Anyway, ‘Lee,’ the universe said, and then it--it was so funny, and what was your name?”

The game is at the bottom of the fourth. Nigel has no idea what that means, but the score is six to nine, which means it’s having a better time than he is. “Nigel,” he replies, eyes still glued to the screen.

 _“Nigel,”_ and the name sounds sinful on Lee’s tongue, almost enough for Nigel to turn and look. “A nice, strong, virile name. Very masculine.”

“As am I.”

Lee drags a finger up Nigel's forearm; it catches on the thin black cotton of his sleeve. “Oh, Nigel, trust me--I noticed.” He chuckles again. “What does a Buddhist do when he wants to email an article to a friend?”

“Anyone ever tell you you’re an annoying little shit?” asks Nigel.

“Ease up, Handsome Dan,” says Lee, “just play along. I know that’s difficult for you. I can tell.”

Nigel’s going to need a stronger drink if he’s going to deal with Lee. “What does the Buddhist do?”

“He sends the link, of course.”

“Because…?”

Lee’s hand moves from Nigel’s arm to the side of his chin; he’s stronger than Nigel expected. “Because Buddhists don’t create attachments.”

Unfortunately for Nigel, Lee is also much more beautiful than he expected some crunchy-hippie-bothersome cocksucker type to be. Lee has eyes the same color as the twilit sky over the Pasajul Basarab, when the stars in the sky are still brighter than the lights of the city below. Nigel’s not in a seedy dive in Minneapolis, but back standing in suspension over the Dâmbovița, trams rattling behind his back, Grozǎveşti to his left and Nicolae Titulescu far to his right, and all the land between to claim as his domain. He looks at Lee, and Nigel is homesick. The appeal of stubble is new, but the pink, pink lips are definitely his aesthetic, and Nigel cares even less about baseball than he had before.

Fingertips trail down his jawline. “You’ve very handsome, yourself,” Lee says, smirking.

“You tell terrible jokes.”

“Nobody’s perfect.” Lee bites his lip. “Speaking of,” and he looks at Nigel through his lashes, “have you ever fucked another alpha?”

And that’s...that’s even newer than the stubble. Nigel does a quick once-over of Lee; this is a man who spent his life as a twink, that he still takes it like a bulangiu. Lee’s built like a beta, muscular but wiry, and pretty enough to be an omega. Nigel would never have guessed he was an alpha, especially since he doesn’t smell like one.

Lee takes back his hand, and his mouth is a tight line. “I promise I’m an alpha.”

“And I guarantee you’ve got a lonely fucking knot.”

“I suppose,” says Lee, but at least he’s smiling again. It’s bright and cheerful, and Nigel’s got to tread carefully. Falling for another alpha would be disastrous. “I use scent blockers,” Lee explains. “It’s easier to get a beta in bed when they don’t think you reek of pheromones.”

“Omegas?”

“It’s nice for them, you know, not to feel intimidated. There’s the added novelty of being the one doing the fucking, too. Of being the dominant party for once.”

Nigel shakes his head, then picks his beer back up. “Why the hell do you like taking knots?” he asks before taking a sip. “That’s got to fucking hurt.”

Lee licks his lips; it’s distracting, and Nigel hates how much he wants to claim Lee like he’s a bitch in heat, how much he needs that tongue on his cock. “I’ve never taken one,” admits Lee. “Always wanted to, but it’s not been practical until now.”

“May I ask why?”

“Couldn’t risk an injury while I was on chemo.” Lee tosses it out like it’s no big deal, but Nigel’s arms break out in goosebumps beneath his shirt. “Got my clean bill of health this morning.” His grin grows wider, and his eyes light up. “I’m officially in remission.”

Nigel doesn’t know what to say besides, “Congratulations.” He pats Lee’s thigh--it’s firm beneath his hand, thick, strong, and now Nigel doesn’t know what to say, at all.

“I’m out to celebrate,” Lee tells him, shifting his leg, pressing it up into Nigel’s palm. “You are all kinds of my type, Nigel.” He leans in, and Nigel feels a finger hook into the unbuttoned vee of his shirt. “Big. Powerful. Hairy.”

 _Fuck it._ “You need someone to hold you down and make you take it, gorgeous?” asks Nigel. It’s impossible to miss the tiny hitch in Lee’s breath. “Want me to get you slick and open and begging for me to fill you up?”

“Oh _God,_ yes.” The Dâmbovița is gone; nothing but midnight in Lee’s eyes now. “I think you should take me home,” he says, tugging on Nigel’s shirt, dragging him in closer. “Take me home, ply me with wine--do you have wine?”

“My cousin’s the worst kind of snob.”

Lee hums. “Excellent. Nigel?” A red blush starts creeping up Lee’s throat when Nigel grabs his wrist to keep him from unbuttoning his shirt right here at the bar. “Get me drunk and fuck me like you mean it.”

“Need me to treat you like the little bitch you are, darling?” Thank _Christ_ that Chip Charlie doesn’t keep Nigel from getting rough in the sack.

“Your place,” croaks Lee. “Get me in your bed before I drag you into the bathroom.”

Nigel can’t think of a single reason not to comply.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy _shit,_ guise. Your support is astounding, and your comments make me smile! Y'all are the best.  <3

Chanhassen has too many families for Nigel’s taste, not to mention all the elitists with their enormous homes. They have nice cars, though, and that does make him jealous. His own car is fairly nondescript and disgustingly popular--a silver Accord, in good condition, anonymous to a fault. Nigel had hoped Hannibal would drive as ostentatiously as he lived, but his safe house was all about blending in.

Even the house itself is disturbingly cookie-cutter, given the kind of neighborhood it’s situated in. Beige and brick with a two-car garage; a well-maintained lawn, currently blanketed in snow; four bedrooms, four bathrooms, more square footage than a single man could ever need. Then again, Nigel remembers Hannibal’s house in Baltimore, and he knows his cousin has certain...proclivities. Never mind that his pet alpha brings seven dogs with him every weekend.

They were nice to watch, though. Weirdly enough, Lee reminds Nigel a little bit of Will. He seems to be just as kinky, too.

Nigel shifts where he sits on the corner of the desk and takes another sip of his vodka before setting the tumbler back down. He’d left Lee to peruse the wine cellar alone; Lee doesn’t seem the type to rob him blind, and the cellar gives off a weird vibe, unsettles him. Besides, if Lee does hit and run, Nigel won’t have a hard time tracking him down.

He honestly doesn’t know what to make of the man. On the drive home, Lee hadn’t been as handsy as Nigel expected. Instead of the dirty back-and-forth banter Nigel had been prepared for, Lee wanted to know what sort of music he enjoyed, and if he’d ever tried tai chi, and what his life had been like back in Bucharest.

“I was an entrepreneur,” he’d told Lee, which wasn’t a _terrible_ lie, he supposed.

“So you got chipped for being too good of a businessman?”

Nigel had scowled. “How do you fucking know I’m chipped?”

He’d quickly glanced at Lee, arm behind his head, leaning against the window. “I didn’t,” and then Lee smiled, and Nigel pressed down on the gas pedal.

Now, Nigel’s strangely nervous, and he’s not been nervous since his first time with Gabi. He goes back for the glass and downs the rest of the vodka. It’s not as if Nigel isn’t confident about performing, so he’s not sure what--

“Don’t tell me you’re having second thoughts?”

Nigel looks up, and he couldn’t possibly look away if he wanted to.

Lee stands in the doorway, leaning up against the frame. He’s wearing the cream-colored bathrobe Nigel left in the downstairs bathroom after his morning coffee and toast. It offsets the ruddy glow of Lee’s skin--Nigel’s never known someone who blushed all over, and he wonders if the flush is nerves or arousal. In one hand, Lee has an uncorked bottle of wine; in the other, he grips the stems of two wine glasses, carrying them upside-down. Lee’s smirking at him, eyes a little glassy like he’s tried the wine already.

“How the fuck could I?” Nigel thinks for a moment that he should get off of the desk, go to Lee, maybe just ravish him against the wall. But Lee had been very specific about what he wanted: to be treated like an omega. So, instead of moving to meet him, Nigel scoots back further and squares his shoulders to look as imposing as he actually is. “Look at you, baby. Gorgeous, and all just for me.”

It was the right approach; Nigel’s gratified when Lee’s eyes go wide, when he licks his lips and moves into the room. “Yeah, alpha,” says Lee, and he holds out his arms. “All for you.”

Lee’s neck is practically red, heat creeping along his collarbones. Nigel needs to know if it spreads further, so he slowly pushes the lapels of the robe open, far enough to expose his shoulders. He leans in to take a taste only to be distracted by a muted, mellow scent, not quite floral, but very obviously omegan. “Perfume?”

“Scent enhancer,” he tells Nigel. “Brought it with me.”

Nigel smiles wickedly, then takes the opportunity to bite at the nape of Lee’s neck, quick and sharp, relishing the quiet, closed-mouth moan. “You were going to let any alpha fuck you tonight, weren’t you?” he asks. “Anyone who’d promise you a knot and take you home.”

Lee’s skin is hot beneath his lips; the veins bulge in his neck as he swallows. Nigel can’t help but grip the lapels of the bathrobe to pull Lee close and keep him still.

“Yes. Until I saw the lonely bear at the bar, that is.”

Nigel plants a parting kiss to the edge of Lee’s jaw; the stubble there pricks at his lips, and he’s not sure whether he enjoys that or not, being used to the smooth faces of omegas. “Go on then,” he says, sitting back again, though he moves his hands from the bathrobe to rest on the sides of Lee’s neck. “Ply yourself with wine.”

“I distinctly recall you agreeing to do that for me,” says Lee. He sets down the bottle and glasses, hands going straight to his belt and untying it. Already loose on his shoulders, the robe drops to the floor, pooling around Lee’s feet.

“Hristos,” Nigel murmurs, openly admiring, hands itching to touch . “You’re fucking flawless.”

Lee’s chest is hairless like an omega; nevertheless, his build is undeniably alphan, muscular, toned. His nipples are already pebbled and peaked, a perfect peachy-brown. He’s on the skinny side, but Nigel anticipated that given Lee’s comment about chemo. His stomach is the slightest bit soft, just enough to draw Nigel’s hands like a magnet. Or maybe he wants to run his hands along his hip bones, follow the deep v of his torso to his groin with his tongue, drag a fingertip down the trail of hair under his navel to his cock. Even _that_ is beautiful, beginning to fill, the head already a warm rose and the tip glistening.

“You should see my reviews on Amazon,” Lee replies saucily. He picks up a glass and lifts an eyebrow. Nigel’s never poured wine before, but this is a night for firsts, and exuding innate self-confidence has never been an issue for him.

“I might get jealous,” says Nigel, and maybe Chip Charlie was a good idea, after all.

“Besides,” Lee begins, flicking his eyes between Nigel’s and the red wine in his glass, “I’m not entirely without flaws. My ears, for one.”

“Are positively edible,” and Nigel snaps his teeth at one before pulling the lobe into his mouth. Lee leans into it as Nigel blindly sets the bottle back down. “Try again.”

“There are my obscenely hairy legs to consider.”

Nigel kisses Lee’s temple. “I thought you liked hair.”

“On _other people.”_

“Keep trying.”

“I have freckles.”

“Do you now?” Nigel curls his finger under Lee’s chin. “I’ll have to keep an eye out for them.” Lee pulls back enough to take a suspiciously large gulp from his glass. “Are you nervous, darling?”

Lee doesn’t say. What he _does_ do is throw an arm around Nigel’s neck and straddle his lap on the desk.

“Oh, my,” says Lee. He raises his glass back to his lips, sipping from the side of the glass in the small gap afforded by the webbing of his thumb. “You _are_ sturdy.”

“And you--” Nigel slaps the side of Lee’s ass; Lee’s lashes flutter, and his groan echoes in his wine glass. “You still haven’t answered my question.”

“Aren’t all omegas nervous their first time?”

“Am I supposed to believe this is your first time?”

Lee sighs. “I don’t know. I mean, it _is_ my first time being with another alpha, and it _is_ my first time doing anything even adjacent to roleplay. Though a pilgrim did give me a blowjob once.”

“That only counts if you’re Plymouth Rock,” Nigel says, and Lee finally has to put down his wine. “If you want my opinion?”

“I feel like you’d give it to me whether I asked you for it or not.” Lee laughs a little more and adds, “Before you give something else more appreciated to me.”

“I’d rather treat you like the obvious knotslut you are.”

Lee’s nostrils flare, and his blush deepens and bleeds down his chest. “If that’s the case...” He bites his lip before taking Nigel’s wrist, pushing his hand down from his hip. Nigel thinks that it’s nothing more than a blatant invitation to finger him, in which case Nigel needs to go for the artificial slick, but then his fingertips hit rubber.

“Lee,” and Lee hums and pushes his ass into Nigel’s hand. “Lee, are you plugged?”

“Off and on since I left the oncologist’s office this morning,” says Lee. His breath is warm against Nigel’s neck as Lee cants his hips back further, resting his head on Nigel’s shoulder. “All slicked up and ready to go.”

“You really would have dragged me into a bathroom stall.”

“Absolutely.”

Nigel hasn’t had an opportunity to be truly impulsive since Institutul Clinic Fundeni stuck a hormone control switch in his head. This is one that is literally presenting itself. “Lie down,” he says, then presses on the base of the plug.

“On the bed?” asks Lee, beginning to pant.

“On the desk.”

“When there’s a perfectly good-- _oh,_ right there, Nigel. God, again, please.”

But Nigel only chuckles. “Been sitting on this, letting it fuck up into you, teasing yourself all day. Have you even fucking come today, Lee?” He slaps Lee’s ass again, this time right over the plug, and Lee winds his arms around Nigel, squeezing him tight. His cock is hard against Nigel’s stomach. “Oh,” he says, “been a good little omega then, have you?”

“Yeah, alpha,” and Lee starts mouthing his way up Nigel’s neck. “But I’m usually bad, so feel free to keep spanking me.”

“Lay on the desk like I told you and I might think about it.”

So Lee hops down, and Nigel follows, and then Lee hops back up and stretches himself out on his back. “I feel like a buffet,” he says, extending his arms over his head, letting his hands dangle.

“Good,” replies Nigel, and then bends to take one of Lee’s nipples into his mouth. He snakes an arm beneath Lee’s head to cushion it--not that he’s likely to notice, eyes closed and cursing as Nigel sucks and worries the bud with his teeth. With his free hand, Nigel starts to fondle him.

“Shit, Nigel, don’t make me come already.” Lee’s laugh is breathy, and his smile is contagious.

“I thought you were playing omega here, gorgeous.” He gives Lee’s nipple a parting lick with the tip of his tongue. “What kind of alpha would I be if I only got you to come once?”

Lee makes the most absurd and obscene sound of defeated disbelief as Nigel kisses his way down his chest and stomach, taking time to dip his tongue into Lee’s navel before he keeps moving. Nigel has sucked cock before, but never another alpha’s. But Lee makes an even _more_ absurd and obscene sound of defeated disbelief than the first one mere moments before, which Nigel takes as a sign that he’s not doing too badly.

He’s not able to take more than the head and a little of the shaft into his mouth--Nigel has never been able to deep throat a dick of any size--but he makes up for it in enthusiasm, in his desire to please his partner. The precome is salty instead of sweet, which surprises him and throws off his technique. Still, the weight is familiar enough, and it’s easy to tongue and suck. Even if it weren’t enjoyable, the noises Lee made would be worth it, anyway.

“Gonna come,” Lee warns him, and Nigel hollows his cheeks as he pulls back. Lee’s hips stutter before he spills over Nigel’s tongue. It’s bitter and thick and entirely unenjoyable. Nigel spits it out into one of the empty glasses. “Alpha is an acquired taste,” says Lee, still aglow, arm thrown over his eyes. There’s a note of resignation, or else Nigel’s already worn Lee out. He files it away to consider later.

“I don’t see myself fucking acquiring it,” Nigel says, instead. Lee pouts playfully, so Nigel swats at his thigh. “None of that. I’m not done with you.”

“Oh, good.” He peeks out from underneath his arm. “Can you not be done with me on the mattress now? Desk sex is not as comfortable as TV promised.”

“I think that could be arranged,” says Nigel, but he bends to bite at Lee’s chest again, anyway.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoy this! <3

They manage to polish off the rest of the wine before they even make it over to the bed, which consists of a box spring, a mattress, and a sufficient amount of linens.

“Reminds me of home,” Lee said before taking his turn to drink straight from the bottle.

“Should’ve seen the four-postered shit that was in here before.”

Lee passed him the wine. “I can’t believe you took that down. You can do some positively _sinful_ things with a four-poster bed.”

“I can do some positively sinful things anywhere,” said Nigel with a snort, and then scooped Lee up off the desk to prove it, which is how they ended up on the bed, with Lee over Nigel’s lap. Lee’s ass is hot to the touch, but he keeps giggling and Nigel is endlessly amused by how happy Lee is during foreplay, and that leads to dangerous thoughts about never having another one night stand.

“C’mon, alpha,” Lee teases, “you can hit harder than that.”

Nigel growls--it’s a reflex that starts in his chest, and he didn’t intend to, but Lee stills. There’s no guide to this, what they’re doing, no map to how an alpha fucks an alpha and what that dominance will look like. All Nigel knows is what Lee wants, what he craves, and fuck if Nigel isn’t going to deliver. Knowing that even his instincts are all on board is incredibly encouraging.

So he gives in and goes with it, hoping Lee will follow. Nigel rubs Lee’s red ass with his hand; he settles the palm of the other over the back of Lee’s neck. “Are you sure you want to challenge me?” he asks as Lee melts and settles. Lee shakes his head, and Nigel spanks him again, once, hard. “Say it.”

“No, alpha, Nigel, _fuck.”_

“Give me your hands,” and Lee does, pulls his arms out from where they support his head and put them on the back of it, instead, like he’s being arrested (and _there’s_ a conversation Nigel is eager to have later). He grabs Lee’s wrists and holds them at the small of his back, and Nigel can’t stop himself--Lee’s ass was made to be slapped, repeatedly and at varying strength and speed.

It isn’t playful anymore; Nigel isn’t avoiding the plug anymore; Lee isn’t giggling anymore, but he _is_ groaning, cheek pressed into the mattress, and that’s just as nice.

Nigel stops again to admire the shade of scarlet he’s turned Lee’s skin, then scratches his nails back and forth over it while he reaches into the drawer of the bedside table and searches for the bottle of artificial slick. “You learn your place now, gorgeous?”

“If I say no, will you keep going?”

“You’re going to be fucking sore enough as it is,” Nigel says, dropping the bottle on the bed.

“Mmm, I _hope_ I’m going to be sore from fucking.” He sighs contentedly as Nigel begins to work the plug out. “Careful back there, it--” Lee chokes his way into a gasp.

“Look how stretched you are,” says Nigel, tracing under the base of the plug, running his finger along Lee’s sensitive rim, letting him jerk in his lap and rub himself against Nigel’s thigh. Lee grew hard again while Nigel spanked him, an impressive refractory time that Nigel intends to have fun with. “Size queen, are you?”

“You--it’s--oh shit--”

“Own up to it,” Nigel says tersely, and Lee must enjoy the idea of getting in trouble more than Nigel thought if his shaky exhale is to be believed.

“I am, I am, I am.” Lee’s eyes scrunch up, and he grunts every time Nigel tries to shift the plug. It must be the perfect size, rubbing against Lee’s prostate with every movement made. Nigel has no idea how he managed to keep his composure walking around and sitting with it in.

“See? I knew you could be good for me,” and Lee must love praise, too, because he suddenly cries out, his whole body tensing as he comes. Nigel’s so surprised that he momentarily forgets how to speak. “Good fucking God,” are the first words he remembers.

Lee is similarly affected. “Knot plug,” he finally manages to say.

Nigel’s mouth goes dry; no wonder Lee was writhing as Nigel played with the plug. “Lee,” he says, but Lee can’t answer, still too busy trying to catch his breath. “Lee, you don’t go out and buy a fucking knot plug on a whim. Fuck, you really hate being an alpha, don’t you?”

He nods shakily, then follows it with, “Bought it to use during my ruts.”

“Yeah?” Nigel strokes Lee’s neck. It’s quickly becoming apparent that this is much greater than roleplay for Lee, but now isn’t the time. “Poor sweet omega,” he says, and Lee whines as Nigel rocks the plug back in forth inside him. “Spending his heats all alone.”

“Alpha, please.” Lee begins to squirm, and Nigel _tsks_ and holds his wrists again.

“What do you need, baby?”

“Plug isn’t enough,” says Lee. Nigel’s heard innumerous broken men over the course of life; not one of them has ever sounded so beautiful. The constant stimulation from Nigel rubbing the fake knot over his prostate has to be getting unbearable by now, seeing that Lee’s already come. “Need you, alpha. Fuck, but I need you.”

“Insatiable thing.” Nigel releases Lee again, leaves him boneless over his lap, and reaches for the bottle of slick. “How often do you use this?” he asks, applying lube liberally around Lee’s rim, rubbing it in as he starts to ease out the plug. “I find it hard to believe that it’s just for your fucking ruts.”

Lee breathes in deeply, and Nigel can feel him relaxing again. “It didn’t used to be, but knots of _any_ kind are dangerous during chemo. For twelve years, it-- _Christ!”_

“Almost there, gorgeous; you’re doing so well.”

“Twelve years,” Lee repeats. “Just ruts. Missed th--” His voice cracks as Nigel finally pulls the plug free. Almost immediately, Lee goes completely limp and boneless. “Missed feeling full.”

Nigel puts more slick on his fingers before slipping two of them inside Lee. There’s no resistance, his hole perfectly loose and open, but he still rubs at Lee’s prostate to feel him spasm around him. Lee moans and shifts restlessly, and Nigel wants to knot him so badly that he’s worried about triggering a rut of his own. “So wet and warm for me,” he says, withdrawing long enough to add a third finger. “You need me to fill you up again, don’t you?”

“Nigel, Nigel, _yes.”_

“My pretty little knotslut needs his alpha, doesn’t he?” Lee doesn’t even answer, only pushes back to meet the thrust of Nigel’s fingers. “Fuck, Lee, but you’re _starved_ for it. Shivering, overstimulated, but you don’t fucking care if it’s too much, too soon.” He pulls his fingers out, and Lee’s hips still seek him. “On your back,” says Nigel. “Want to see you when you catch on my knot for the first time.”

 _Not_ a _knot,_ Nigel thinks, standing up to quickly undress. _Not_ a _knot,_ my _knot. Not letting this omega get the fuck away like Gabi did._ He scoffs, shrugging his shirt off his shoulders. _Fuck Gabi, and fuck Charlie, and fuck Bucharest. This is fucking better than all of them,_ because Lee’s staring at Nigel like he hung the goddamn stars up just so he could count each and every one.

It takes longer than Nigel would like to finish undressing, but Lee looks dazed and relaxed and happy, seems content to just consume Nigel with his eyes for now. Finally, Nigel’s ready to slick himself up, and Lee lifts his arms and beckons to him--”Come here, alpha bear,” he says, “come and get me.”

Lee bends his legs, bringing his knees up to his chest, but Nigel shoves a pillow under his hips for good measure. “You want me to go in slow or fast?” asks Nigel, but he doesn’t give Lee a chance to decide, just lines up and slides in all at once.

Nigel’s been hard since Lee dropped his damn robe, and he has to take a moment to recompose himself. Lee’s tighter than any other omega Nigel’s ever fucked, and even with all the artificial slick they used, there’s still some drag, some cling. He exhales, then pulls out, drizzling more slick onto his cock, practically upending the bottle over his still-deflated knot, because God knows they’re going to need it.

“Come on, alpha,” Lee purrs, squeezing his thighs against his chest. “Stop worrying and show me how good you are.”

Nigel takes hold of Lee’s waist and slams back in, and Lee shouts, head tossed to the side, mouth hanging open as Nigel sets a brutal pace. It’s hell on Nigel’s knees, but he doesn’t give a shit, not when he’s got Lee beneath him with his eyes rolling back in his head. Still, he’s too quiet for Nigel’s tastes.

“You’re such a greedy bitch, Lee, aren’t you? Fucking ravenous in your heat, I bet,” and it feels _right,_ not calling it a rut. “The kind of hungry just one cock can’t fix,” he continues. “Tell me all about it, beautiful. Tell me about what a wanton whore you are.”

Lee makes a high-pitched, strangled sound as he lets go of his own legs, and Nigel’s gone and ruined it now, he’s sure. But he’s not trying to push Nigel off; Lee’s scrambling up for his shoulders, winding one leg and then the other around Nigel’s waist, and meeting Nigel stroke for stroke. His cock still lies on his belly, twitching and trying to fill, but the lack of an erection doesn’t seem to faze Lee.

“So desperate,” Nigel says, trying not to let the utter awe seep into his voice. “Just want to be fucking used, don’t you? Debauched. Passed around like a goddamn party favor,” and Lee grins as Nigel pounds into him, picking up speed. Nigel drops down to his forearms, panting, face pressed into Lee’s neck-- _Hristos, I want to bite you, claim you, keep you._ “You need everyone to know what this slutty little hole feels like. Want to get pushed past all your limits until you’re sloppy and all you smell like is sex and sweat and spend.”

Nails drag down Nigel’s back, and Lee’s breathless little cries echo in his ears. Maybe it’s the hormones that have changed him, or maybe Nigel’s managed to convince himself with his own voice, but he kind of _does_ want to show Lee off. Not now, though. For now, Lee is all his, and Lee seems to be perfectly happy with that.

Nigel feels his knot start to fill and tries to slow down a little to keep from hurting Lee, but Lee’s having none of that. He digs his heels into the small of Nigel’s back--”Harder, harder, _harder, alpha, fuck me harder.”_ It’s quickly becoming difficult for Nigel to piston his hips, his knot getting stuck too soon behind a too-small hole.

_I’m going to hurt you, you’re going to tear, this was a horrible fucking idea, you’re--_

Lee snarls in Nigel’s ear, and nips at his jaw hard enough to bleed. Nigel hears him gritting his teeth, and Lee’s cock has managed to grow half hard between them. “Keep going, goddammit!” he hisses.

“Darling--”

“Breed me up, alpha.”

Nigel’s knot pushes past Lee’s rim for the last time just as he comes, swells until it locks them together, and Nigel doesn’t know if Lee’s scream is pleasure or pain or both. Whatever it is, it’s _glorious._

He gets his arm under Lee--Lee, who still sounds like he’s in the midst of saintly divine ecstasy, all the bullshit Nigel was taught about as a kid--and carefully rolls them to their sides. Nigel tries to rearrange Lee’s legs so that they don’t cramp up; position considered, he thinks he does a passable job. They moan together as Lee clenches and milks another orgasm from Nigel. It’s strange, because it’s omegan biology that is affected by alphan come, not another alpha’s, but Lee’s cock has gone from somewhat interested to fully hard. Maybe Lee is just special. Science has never been a strength for Nigel.

It only takes a few slow pumps of his hand to make Lee come again, which makes _Nigel_ come again, and they both lie there for a while in an oxygen-deprived, hormonally-fueled daze.

Lee makes it back to his vocal cords first, though his voice is hoarse and strained. “I’m never leaving this bed.”

“Good,” says Nigel, and his throat doesn’t sound much better. “That’s...that’s good.”

“Do you…” He trails off, combing his fingers through the hair on Nigel’s chest. “Should we talk about...you agreed to roleplay, but--”

Nigel silences him with a kiss, and Lee’s as energetic in this as he is in everything else. Their mouths stay closed, which is a shame, but even Nigel’s tongue is tired at this point. “Later, darling,” Nigel tells him gently, then kisses the corner of his mouth. He hopes it comes across as romantic; really, he just missed.

“You were right,” Lee says, and Nigel needs his knot to go down so he can fuck the embarrassment back out of him. “I do hate being an alpha, especially here, in bed, where it counts.”

“If you don’t like being one, then don’t be one.” It seems simple enough to Nigel. He’s not exactly sure what the problem is, but Lee still looks distressed. Kissing seems to be an effective strategy, though, and Lee’s lips are soft and supple and magnetic, so Nigel kisses him again. He runs his hands over as much of Lee’s body as he can reach, caressing and touching until Lee hums against his mouth. “Just be Lee,” Nigel reiterates. “I like Lee.”

Lee’s face lights back up. “I am extremely likeable.”

“That you are.”

“Say it again.” Lee runs his fingers down Nigel’s neck again, right over his scent gland, and they both tremble against each other through the aftershocks, in the afterglow.

“That I like you?”

Lee shakes his head. “I mean call me your omega.” He blushes pink; it makes his shy eyes stand out even more. “It was nice to hear out loud.”

Nigel puts his palm against the back of Lee’s neck, and he shudders in Nigel’s arms. “My gorgeous, feisty, remarkable omega.” He nearly loses himself and bites Lee then and there, settling for sucking a livid bruise on his throat in lieu of sinking in his teeth like he wants.

The scent enhancers have worn off of Lee, and now Nigel can finally smell him properly: Rom chocolate and baklava; the sweet smoke from a thurible; a hint of thyme.

“Bucharest,” he whispers. “You smell like home in a long rain.”

“Then I apologize for your home,” says Lee, “because I am in desperate need of a shower. And then a nap.” He looks thoughtful before adding, “Maybe a snack.”

“I’m hardly done with you here.”

Lee shrugs. “Well, ask me out when you are. If you’re going to lie here and get all wistful smelling me, the least you can do is take me on a date.”

“Why, Lee,” Nigel says, “are you asking me to court you?”

“No, never.” Lee seems disgusted. “Just keep me entertained in between copious rounds of amazing copulation.”

“Good, because I don’t court omegas.” He snaps at Lee’s nose to make him laugh.

“What do you do, instead?’

“I keep them.”

Lee continues to laugh; Nigel never wants him to stop. “Sounds fun! I’ve always wanted to be a kept man,” and Nigel attempts to hide his concern, not only for Lee, but for himself. He can’t possibly know what he’s signing up for, staying with Nigel. Then again, Nigel didn’t know what he was getting into tonight, either.

He kisses Lee like he’s sealing a deal. If Lee can choose to be himself, maybe Nigel can choose to be a better man. Maybe that’s what he’s been all along. As long as Lee’s his, Nigel doesn’t mind trying to behave.

Besides, Nigel’s in enough fucking trouble already, and trouble’s name is Lee.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's now a fic that takes place between the end of this chapter and the epilogue! Check out _[Maybe Once, Maybe Twice](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11256648)_. :D


	4. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now, we join Hannibal and Will back in Baltimore.

**_TWO MONTHS LATER_ **

 

Hannibal ends the call and sets his cell back down on the desk. “My apologies,” he says to Will. “Had it not been my cousin, I would have let it go to voicemail.”

Will turns from where he is pulling Hannibal’s personal books and files off of the shelves, folding his arms on the railing of the mezzanine. Hannibal looks up and meets Will’s eyes. It never fails to astonish Will, how much he feels like the alpha he is when he’s with Hannibal, and Hannibal has said likewise. A fated pair. It makes the betrayal all the worse, both Hannibal’s of him and, soon, his of Hannibal. “How is Nigel, anyway?”

“Doing well. He seems to have found his true bondmate. A trans omega named Lee.” Hannibal glances back at his desk. “I am loathe to bring them trouble. Life may prove difficult for the two of them, already.”

“They’re still at the safe house?”

Hannibal offers his hand as Will climbs down the ladder. “Yes, and with no intention of leaving.”

Will smiles as much as he can--he simply hasn’t had the heart to lately, not now that the wheels are turning and devastation is imminent. “He’s in love, then,” and he takes Hannibal’s hand, strong and warm, and hops off the ladder, skipping the last two rungs.

“Oh, yes,” says Hannibal quietly. “Very much so. To build upon the writings of Saint Augustine, we are only made perfect when we discover and accept our own imperfections and, by extension, those of our beloved. I can only assume, then, that they have been perfected by each other.” His eyes are so earnest that it makes Will’s chest ache.

“I’m glad for them both.” Will’s brain unhelpfully summons the memory of Hannibal baring his neck to him in the kitchen after Will was released from captivity. He knows he won’t survive the separation, won’t endure after Hannibal is taken in. This is his omega, whether Hannibal is capable of accepting his love or not, of feeling it or not.

“As am I.” The conversation feels stilted, as though they’re dancing around each other more than usual. He hasn’t taken his hand back from Will’s. Hannibal still wears his perpetual mask--though the cracks have finally started to show, as he lets his guard down for Will--but he looks like he’s in physical pain, that he isn’t happy for his cousin, at all.

“Perhaps it would be prudent to prolong our leaving,” Will suggests.

“I have other safehouses. We had already planned to stop at another along the way to Chanhassen. It would be a simple thing to amend our journey.”

And that seals it. Will is doomed to be Brutus right on schedule. He squeezes Hannibal’s hand before he can stop himself; his eyes water without his permission.  _ One last chance, _ Will thinks.  _ Maybe I can convince him if I show him how worried I am, _ because he is. There’s still time to save him, even if Hannibal would never save Will in return. “Hannibal--”

“I envy them,” says Hannibal. He rubs his thumb over the back of Will’s hand. “Each finding a faithful and willing partner, having honest and immutable trust.”

Will doesn’t know what to say. Instead, he just closes his eyes and turns his head away.

There’s a long, uncomfortable silence punctuated by nothing but the crackling fire. Finally, Hannibal says, “You smell like Freddie Lounds,” and Will begins to cry, hiccuping sobs that he can’t control, that embarrass and shame him. Hannibal pulls him to his chest, wrapping his arms around him. “I forgive you, Will.”

“You shouldn’t.” Hannibal’s fingers feel wonderful in his hair, and at least he can have this before the end, can torture himself with the memory as he sits alone in Wolf Trap. “I don’t.”

“We could disappear now. Tonight.”

“We would never be happy,” says Will. “I will always crave a partnership I cannot have. The things I want are impractical at best.”

Hannibal’s heart beats loudly in Will’s ear. “With me?” Will can’t manage more than a nod. “Is my love for you truly so horrid?”

“You can’t love me, Hannibal.” Will wonders if he sounds as lost and bereft to Hannibal as he does to himself.

“So you believe me incapable of loving, or do you think yourself incapable of being loved?” When Will doesn’t respond, Hannibal raises his hand to Will’s cheek, cradles it in his palm. “You are right about me, in a way. I did not recognize love in myself, either. Not until you. I would be yours, Will. I would be claimed, should you desire it.”

Will closes his eyes again, breathing deeply. “If I did, I would always struggle with it.”

“I understand that. There will forever be an inextinguishable light in you that I cannot possess.”

“My dogs--”

“Feed them,” Hannibal tells him. “Leave a note for Alana. Tell Jack that I have made you mate me, forced your hand, if you like.”

Will shakes his head, but not enough to dislodge Hannibal’s hand from his face. “You would never do something so crude and impolite.”

“Jack would believe me capable, I’m sure.” Hannibal leans in and kisses Will’s forehead, and Will wants to melt, wants to live in this moment for the rest of his life. He knows now that his choice was made long ago; Jack had merely persuaded him to ignore it.

“Okay,” Will whispers. “We can try.”

Hannibal smiles against his skin. “That is all I have ever wanted for us: an attempt to become more than what we are.” Another kiss, and then, “We shall skip Minnesota. Finish our work here, go to Wolf Trap, and then elsewhere.”

Will looks around at how much they still have left to do. “I guess we should get a move on.”

“Yes,” says Hannibal. “I am eager to introduce you to the resident of another safe house.”

“More relatives?”

Hannibal attempts to wink at him before walking back to his desk. “Of a sort,” he says, and Will resigns himself to his new life full of questions and subterfuge. Then again, it may not be so different from the trouble he’s chosen all his life.

Perhaps, if the stars are kind, Will can have what Lee has, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't even know how to properly express my appreciation for how enthusiastic everyone has been about this fic. It's very humbling. You're all top-notch hooman beans. Thanks for coming along with me. <3

**Author's Note:**

> [[about me](http://shiphitsthefan.tumblr.com/about)] [[tumblr](http://shiphitsthefan.tumblr.com/)] [[twitter](https://twitter.com/shiphitsthefan)]
> 
> Feel free to come flail with me about BearDogs! Or my precious son, Lee Fallon. Or Hannigram in general. I enjoy flailing.
> 
> Kudos and comments validate my existence. <3


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